Worth Any Risk
by curious-scholar
Summary: This was inspired by an idea for Klamille Appreciation Week 2015. When the Mikaelsons hold a lavish ball, Klaus and Camille find themselves sharing a private dance, and more. Will Klaus finally show Cami how he feels, or will he let another chance pass him by?
1. An Insufferable Wanker

The compound was a blaze of light and color this evening.

He'd let Rebekah plan the party to celebrate her return to town and their reunion of sorts with Freya. In Rebekah's hands, the event had blossomed into a lavish ball, and as Klaus looked down over the courtyard, his hands gripping the railing, he couldn't help but smile. Their family never missed an opportunity to make a grand gesture. Nor an opportunity to ensure their guests knew whose city this was.

He watched the couples dancing below, but as he scanned the room, his gaze hardly registered any of their faces. He was restless tonight. There was something missing.

 _Someone_ missing.

"Are you going to sulk all night long, or are you going to go find her?"

He was still getting used to the voice, but there was no mistaking the tone.

He turned slightly to look at his younger sister, who stood beside him now in an extravagant dress of shimmering black silk. "I trust," he said, "that you spent as much on the food and entertainment as you did on that gown."

"When have you known me to do anything by halves, Nik?" Rebekah tossed the dark curls that had been piled atop her head. "I think I've outdone myself tonight."

"That doesn't answer my question," he replied.

"It wasn't a question, and you haven't answered mine either."

He averted his gaze to the partygoers below. "Marcel is down there somewhere. I'm sure you wouldn't wish to waste an opportunity to throw yourself at him. Off you go. There's a good girl."

"You can be an insufferable wanker sometimes, do you know that?" Rebekah said with a pout. "And you're not deceiving anyone. Even the guests are asking me why you're standing up here with a scowl on your face instead of actually playing host. By the way, Cami arrived ten minutes ago. But don't worry. I saw Elijah talking to her. I'm sure he'll take good care of her tonight."

Klaus found himself gritting his teeth. "Elijah is a free agent. He may do as he pleases."

"Elijah is a fool who let the woman he loves slip through his fingers," Rebekah said. "Apparently you're going to take a leaf out of his book."

Not wanting to have this conversation, particularly with Rebekah, he tried to steer the conversation back to his brother. "Elijah made the choice to sacrifice his personal happiness for the sake of my daughter. He understands the importance of family. Hope must always be our first priority."

"Has it ever occurred to you that what's best for Hope may actually be what's best for you?"

 _Happy mom, happy dad, happy baby._ "It has been suggested to me."

"Well, if you weren't so stubborn, you'd realize you don't have to be a lonely, miserable tosser for once in your life—" She stopped insulting him and craned her neck over the balcony. "Bloody hell," she whispered.

Klaus followed her gaze. Below them, Marcel, wearing a tux as only he could, was leading someone behind him onto the dance floor. Then he turned to the side, and Klaus caught sight of her for the first time.

She was wearing a gown the color of the sea, one that left her shoulders bare and skimmed her curves before flaring to the floor. Tiny diamonds glinted in her ears and in the hollow of her throat, but otherwise she wore no ornamentation. Her hair was twisted into a knot at the nape of her neck and arranged in simple waves around her face.

He felt a surge of pride. Most of the other women in the room were dressed in much finer designer-label gowns and decked out in ostentatious jewels. And yet she was the one he couldn't tear his eyes from. The one who stole his breath.

"Nik, you have to go down there at once," Rebekah commanded. "She'd much rather dance with you."

"You mean you'd much rather she dance with me than Marcel."

"Will you please go down there?"

Klaus drew his lips into a deliberate smirk that he knew would infuriate his little sister. "I do so enjoy hearing you beg—"

"Nik!"

"Very well," he replied with a sigh, but he didn't move. Instead, he gripped the railing harder.

Because Marcel was putting his arms around Camille, and she was smiling up at him with the same smile that Klaus had seen innumerable times, the one that calmed and excited him at the same time. A smile of warmth and light and reassurance.

And he didn't know for a second whether he could trust himself not to kill his adopted son.


	2. Epic Fail

Rebekah gave up eventually. After calling him a selfish toerag who refused to do the slightest little thing for his beloved sister, she had flounced off.

Now he would have some peace and quiet. Really, the outlook was so much better up here. The only drawback was that from his vantage point he had a birds' eye view of the dance floor.

And of Camille, who was invited to dance by Elijah the moment Marcel left her. Then Vincent immediately after. Followed by half the bloody room. For someone who said she didn't like dancing, she was certainly doing a lot of it. Well, Klaus Mikaelson didn't wait for anything or anyone. He wasn't going to stand in line. He was going to go down there and demand a few moments of her time.

Except that when he made his way to where she'd been doing a very awkward waltz with the chief of police, she was gone. The only sign that she'd been there at all was the lingering scent of lilacs and jasmine in the air. And no one seemed to know where she'd gone. But he knew she was here somewhere. He could feel her drawing him to her, as she always did. He returned to the dance floor, his senses on high alert as he stood alone in a sea of couples. Then it dawned on him. _Of course._ There was only one place she'd be. His heart swelled as he took the stairs two at a time to go find her.

Cami smiled as she leaned over the crib to gaze at the serene face of the sleeping baby. It was so peaceful here, and she didn't have to concentrate on not stepping on her partners' toes or trying not to look painfully out of place. The party was ridiculous, and here she was, like a second-rate Cinderella wannabe. In a knock-off dress and the same pair of heels she'd worn to every formal occasion since prom, surrounded by stunning women who reeked of Chanel No. 5 and were dripping with diamonds. Real ones, not rhinestones like the one on the simple silver chain she wore around her neck.

Normally she didn't care what people thought of her. But for some reason, she'd wanted to look pretty tonight. _Epic fail, Cami._ Still, it wasn't like anyone had noticed. Correction: it wasn't like _he'd_ noticed. She'd noticed him, of course. He'd been leaning over the balcony upstairs like some monarch surveying his subjects. Brooding, no doubt.

He took brooding to a whole new level.

And he looked magnificent doing it.

There were probably better looking men in the room, but there was just something about him that a woman couldn't ignore. Maybe it was the intensity in his blue gaze, maybe it was that confident, devilish lopsided grin. Maybe it was the vulnerability behind it. Maybe it was the way he filled a room with his presence.

Maybe it was that she didn't see anyone else in the room whenever he was there.

Cami sighed heavily. Thinking this way was bad. This was dangerous.

There were plenty of hot guys in the world, and most of them—hell, _all_ of them—were less complicated and came with less baggage. They might be boring and predictable in comparison, but they didn't need a warning label attached. They had normal issues. Like money troubles or annoying exes. Not mortal enemies who also happened to be members of the family.

Maybe one of them could get under her skin like he had. Maybe she could develop less complicated feelings for somebody else.

Who was she kidding? That ship had sailed.

She straightened suddenly when she sensed his presence—it was like a breeze blowing on her skin, a light caress on the side of her neck. A lover's kiss.

 _Klaus_.

She turned to the door, and there he was, leaning against the doorframe, a slight smile on his lips, his eyes the same color as the midnight blue of his elegant and expensive evening suit.

Her breath caught in her chest, and his mouth quirked up on one side.

"I thought I'd find you here," he said, slowly walking over to stand next to her in front of the crib.

"I came to check on my favorite girl."

"And how is she?" he asked gently, gazing down at his daughter.

Cami tucked Hope's blanket into her side. "She's peaceful and happy and beautiful. In short, she's perfect, as usual."

He glanced back up at Cami and held her gaze for a long time without speaking. "I was under the impression you didn't like to dance," he said finally.

Cami wasn't sure what had prompted the change of subject. "I don't. It's my worst nightmare. But Marcel was being a gentleman, trying to rescue the wallflower." She wrinkled her nose. "I could hardly refuse without being rude to the poor guy."

Klaus stared at her for a moment, something dark and intense burning in his eyes, something she couldn't quite recognize. "What of the mayor? Or Congressman Turner? You couldn't refuse them either?"

A lump formed in Cami's throat at the tone of disapproval in his voice. Then she realized he had been keeping tabs on her. Maybe he had noticed after all. "Hey, I took one for the team," she said. "The congressman wanted to run his ideas for campaign slogan by you, but I convinced him to tell me instead. That's twenty minutes of my life I'm never getting back."

"Then I apologize," Klaus said with a slight bow of the head. "I should never forgive myself were Turner to bore you to death and I had to bring you back."

"I'd never forgive you either," she said dryly. "I think I'd rather be dead than listen to him drone on any longer."

Klaus looked at her with genuine amusement. "I'll bear that in mind," he replied. He turned as if he was going to walk away, then stopped and inhaled sharply. "Dance with _me_ this time," he said.

"After hearing my tale of woe, you're cruel enough to ask me to go back downstairs and humiliate myself—"

"Dance with me here," he said. "Right now."

Cami folded her arms. "The last time we danced, you left me on the dance floor looking like an idiot. And besides, there's no music."

He strode to the double doors that led out onto the balcony and threw them open. Cami could hear the strains of a song coming from somewhere on the street below. She listened for a few seconds. A man was singing in Spanish, accompanied by several guitars. The melody was beautiful, haunting, sad.

And slow. She could probably keep up if she just let herself relax in his arms.

 _Except that would be a very bad idea_ , she decided.

Yet when he held out his hand to her, beckoning her to him, she felt herself moving towards him like he was some kind of life-size magnet.

 _Very bad idea_. _Very bad idea_ , she repeated in her head as she took his hand and he pulled her backwards, out through the doors onto the balcony. Into the moonlight.

The next thing she knew, she was in his arms and they were slowly moving together. She tried to concentrate on what her feet were doing, but she really had no idea. Hints of his spicy cologne drifted under her nose as his face drew closer to hers. His long fingers splayed over the small of her back and she was sure he must be able to hear her heart pounding erratically.

Perhaps if she focused on the song and not on how good it felt this close to him, her heartbeat would slow down. Unfortunately, her high school Spanish didn't help with the lyrics. "I wonder what he's singing about," she said, more to herself than Klaus.

He cocked his head and paused to listen. "It's the story of a man and a woman."

"Not a very happy one by the sounds of it. Let me guess, it's the usual tragic but clichéd tale of lost love," she said mockingly.

"Not lost," he said. "Unclaimed."

When she looked at him quizzically, he went on. "He has fallen in love with a woman. Sweet, kind, generous. Beautiful in every way." His gaze drifted over her hair, down her face to her lips and back to her eyes, causing Cami to shiver. "But he dares not tell her of his love. Each time he summons the courage to do so, he hesitates, and the moment is lost."

This was doing nothing to help calm her thundering heart, but she couldn't resist. "Why can't he tell her? Does he think she would reject him?"

"He has reason to think she might welcome his advances," Klaus said softly. He hesitated for a moment. "But she is as far above him as the moon and the stars. He doesn't deserve her."

Cami laughed shakily. "You got all that from a few bars?"

His eyes were dark and unreadable. "I'm reading between the lines."

They had stopped moving, even though he was still holding her. She knew if she didn't walk away now, nothing would ever be the same again.

And she really should walk away. It would be so much simpler. Better for her. Better to play the part of stenographer. Drinking buddy. Therapist.

But she didn't move. Instead, she found herself gazing into his eyes and saying, "If he knows she feels the same, then he should seize the day. If he doesn't, he'll never forgive himself, and she won't forgive him either if she knows he let her slip away without taking a risk."

Surprise flickered on his face, and he swallowed heavily. "Are you sure?"

"No. Yes." Cami was trembling now. "All I know is he has to stop running eventually. Because if he doesn't, she might just slap him. Again."

There was the ghost of a smile on his face as he let go of her hand to reach up and caress her cheek. She noticed his hand was trembling too as he stroked her skin ever so softly. "Camille," he whispered on a sigh, and Cami closed her eyes when he lowered his face to hers.


	3. I Give You Fair Warning

"Nik, where the bloody hell are you? Are you in here? I need you. Now!"

Klaus froze. _So close again, and yet so far._ If ever a man had been cursed by fate, it was him. He laughed out of sheer frustration as he pressed his forehead to Camille's.

He didn't immediately let go of her as he turned to face his sister, who was headed like a freight train towards the balcony. "Your screeching is enough to rouse the dead and certainly enough to wake my daughter. What is so urgent, sister?"

"All hell is breaking loose, and you're here—" Rebekah's eyes widened as she took in the two of them, and she stopped abruptly. "Oh, bollocks," she muttered. "Sorry."

"Never mind that now," Klaus replied impatiently. "What do you want?"

"Henri is threatening to leave. That's the French chef I hired for the evening," she added for Camille's benefit. "He says the escargots aren't fresh enough. As if I would have anything but the best flown in. The man's a fool."

"Yes, yes, undoubtedly he's a fool. What do you want me to do about it?"

"Why, compel him to stay," she said as if it was painfully obvious. "And some of the wait staff are be being downright impertinent. Oh, and some of Jackson's pack got drunk and they're behaving like buffoons. Elijah left when one of them spilled a drink all over his suit, so you need to sort it all out, Nik." She turned to Camille. "I'd do it myself if I could. This body is bloody _useless_."

"Very well," he muttered. "I'll meet you downstairs. Momentarily. I need to make sure you didn't disturb Hope."

Rebekah grinned. "Yes, you look after Hope," she said before disappearing in a flurry of silk.

Klaus turned back to Camille, who to his surprise was looking amused rather than annoyed. "A host's work is never done," she said, shaking her head.

"I shouldn't be very long. Will you wait for me?" Before she could answer, he leaned in to whisper in her ear. "I give you fair warning. When I return, I will allow nothing to stop me from kissing you. And once I start, I may not be able to stop."

When he pulled back, she gazed up at him, her beautiful eyes soft and shining. "Then hurry."

He discovered when he got downstairs that Rebekah hadn't exaggerated. All hell _had_ broken loose. The French chef was cursing as he threw sharp implements at the kitchen hands. _Putain de merde_! He was a Michelin two-star chef. His reputation would be in tatters!

It wasn't easy to compel someone mid-rant, but once Klaus had calmed him, he was able to convince the chef that the escargots were _magnifique_. Then it was on to the next crisis. In between being harangued by Congressman Turner, the mayor, the chief of police and—dear God—the new regent of the nine covens, bloody _Davina_ , he sorted out the shoddy waiters and the drunken wolves, a supposed champagne shortage, and a dozen other trifling issues. It would have been easier to kill the lot of them. Less effort on his part, certainly. The only thing that kept him from doing so was that the beautiful woman upstairs wouldn't take kindly to him massacring the guests at his own party.

The realization that he'd kept her waiting for so long blackened his mood. He already had so much to make up to her. As he entered Hope's nursery, he contemplated how he would do so.

The first thing he noticed was that the doors leading out to the balcony had been closed. She must have closed them to protect his daughter from the cold. He found himself smiling at the thought. He was grateful that she felt an affection for his little girl, and proud. She was a nurturing woman, and it was one of the things he admired about her. She would make an excellent mother herself…

No, best not to dwell on matters like that, or he would think of all the reasons he should push her away again. For once, he wasn't going to think of the consequences, or worry about what tomorrow would bring. For once, he wasn't going to deny himself the one thing he most needed.

He threw open the doors, expecting to see her lovely serene presence, desperate for her warmth, her touch.

She wasn't there.

He strode from one end of the balcony to the other, as if expecting her to jump out of the shadows. But he knew immediately that she'd gone.

He should never have left her. He should have left those fools downstairs to go to hell. He'd been given one chance to take his happiness, and it had slipped through his fingers again.

He didn't blame her. How could he? How could he fault her for coming to her senses and running away while she could? Any sane woman would. He blamed fate. It seemed the immortal bastard was always to be the butt of some terrible cosmic joke.

Anger, blasting hot, flared through him.

As he stalked back to his room, he felt more alone than he'd ever been. He'd been able to bear it for a thousand years.

But this, this might just break him.


	4. A Pain In the Ass Like You

As she stood in the middle of Klaus' room, Cami got cold feet. The longer she waited, the more freezing they got.

This had seemed like a good idea before. The noise of people going past her room had woken Hope, and it had taken Cami a while to get the fussy baby back to sleep. She had made the decision to vacate the nursery and wait here.

She hadn't changed her mind about Klaus. She wanted him. She'd tried to deny it, tried to be sensible, but it was no use. Her heart had whispered from the very beginning that it was worth any risk, that he could be the love of her life if he'd only let her love him. And now, finally, he was letting her in.

But even though she'd been here before, when Elijah had asked her to take care of him, she felt weirdly uncomfortable in Klaus' private domain. It was hardly subtle, waiting in his bedroom like this. They hadn't even kissed, for crying out loud.

To take her mind off the tension of waiting, she moved over to the easel. On it was a canvas with a half-finished painting of a cityscape, much like the one that hung in the nursery. An odd choice for a baby's room, she'd thought, but clearly it meant something to Klaus. Like in that one, this new painting featured a huge luminous moon that drew the eye and held the observer's attention.

As she was admiring the boldness of the brushstrokes, the door flew open, crashing against the wall behind it and rattling the windowpanes. Klaus kicked it shut behind himself and advanced into the room, attempting to yank his tie loose and swearing at it when the knot refused to budge.

He stopped short when he caught sight of her. It would have been funny, seeing him standing there with a look of shock on his face, still pulling on his tie, if she hadn't felt so damned awkward.

All she could think of to say was, "Hi."

He didn't respond for what seemed like an eternity. Then, "I thought you'd left."

"No," she said. "I didn't."

 _Brilliant_.

"I know you told me to wait in the nursery, but…"

She was lost for words when Klaus strode towards her, his eyes glittering. His face was so grim that she feared he might be angry with her. But when he stopped in front of her, he released a ragged breath, cupped her face in his hands and said her name as if it were a precious gift. A thrill skittered down her spine and she closed her eyes. Heavenly, his touch was, so soft and yet powerful enough to make her sigh.

And then he finally— _finally_ —touched his lips to hers, and she stopped breathing altogether.

He forgot all his self-restraint in that instant and kissed her with all the longing pent up over these last long months. Her lush mouth was warm and unbelievably soft beneath his, and when she parted her lips, he crushed her to him and leaned her back so he could deepen the kiss.

They moved together, their hands exploring each other's body, their tongues entwined, until he broke the kiss to move his lips along her chin and down her throat, making her whimper.

Ironically, it was the steady pulse beating just under her soft skin that awakened his appetite yet brought him back from the brink of madness.

That beat into his skull the reasons he'd kept her at arm's length all this time.

Gently, he pulled away from her. "Perhaps we should stop."

She smiled up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. "You've got to be kidding."

"Now. While we still can."

"I know that being a thousand years old entitles you to be a little old-fashioned," she said, her smile broadening, "but I know you're not that much of a prude."

"If I allowed anything to happen to you, I don't think I could bear it." Klaus grabbed her by the arms, perhaps a little harder than necessary, but he had to make her see reason. "We have to end this before it begins. Before it's too late."

She surprised him by leaning in and nuzzling her face against his jaw. "You idiot, it's already too late. If it weren't, I would have walked away a long time ago. Lord knows I would never have chosen to fall in love with a pain in the ass like you."

For a second, he was lost in the sweet sensation of her closeness. The simple intimacy of the moment.

Then he realized just what she'd said.

He'd never met a woman quite like her in a thousand years of living, and he doubted he'd meet one like her ever again.

With a will of their own, his arms wrapped around her tightly, and he just held her quietly. "I don't know how to do any of this," he whispered finally.

"This?"

He ran his hand up the curve of her spine, savoring the feel of her against his body. "Us."

"We'll work it out," she murmured with her lips against his neck. "Together."

"I don't want to disappoint you."

She began to plant tiny kisses along his jaw. "Then don't do anything stupid."

He took her face in his hands to place a tiny kiss of his own on her nose. "I'm going to worry about you every second of every day. I'll never stop worrying about you."

"Maybe just take a break for tonight. Because right now, I'm fine." She went back to work, her mouth tracing a line to his earlobe. "More than fine."

"You deserve—"

"Oh, shut up already. Just tell me how you feel."

"Well, I can hardly do both at the same—"

She leaned back and glared at him. "If the next words out of your mouth are not 'I adore you. I need you desperately. Please stay with me,' I am going to knee you where it'll hurt the most."

He raised his eyebrows at this, but brushed the hair from her face at the same time and then stroked her cheek. "I do adore you. I do need you desperately. I love you, Camille O'Connell." With a long sigh, he looked into her soft, loving eyes. "Please stay with me."

"I'll take it under consideration," she said just before he swept her into his arms and carried her over to the bed.


End file.
